Change the World
by Farren O'Blivion
Summary: Her heart, her innocence was shattered that night. So this was the world he had kept her from, kept from her? Now... Shilo just couldn't blame him. She's naive, but not stupid. And she needs a teacher, here on the outside. Any takers?
1. Introduction: The Devil's Advocate

_Change the World_

Introduction: The Devil's Advocate

By: Farren O'Blivion

The limo had taken her to GeneCo headquarters, his personal bodyguards silently flanking her. In his arrogance, Rotti had never once considered that Shilo would deny his offer. The scrap of paper he'd used on-stage was nothing more than a prop, an added incentive. Useless, worthless... Rotti's official Will was waiting in the safe behind his desk, naming Shilo as the sole heir to the throne of GeneCo.

Shilo did not want it, but what real choice did she have? She perched on Rotti's throne, behind his massive desk, a plan forming in her mind as she stared at the documents laid before her by GeneCo's head-lawyer.

She heard them coming, their enraged bickering rising faster than the elevator in which they rode. Shilo settled more comfortably in their father's chair. She seemed quite at home when they finally burst from the elevators, the three of them getting caught up on each other as they all tried to exit first.

Luigi rushed her.

"You little cunt!" he screamed, extracting a knife from his pocket. He raised it as he made to leap over the desk. "I'll kill you!" Quick as a flash, the Henchwoman to Shilo's left pressed a gun to the underside of Luigi's chin. He stilled immediately as the other Henchwoman trained her own gun on the less excitable but still furious Pavi Largo and Amber Sweet.

"How did you do it!?" Amber demanded, stomping up to the desk beside her brother. "How did you get him to leave it _all to you_!?"

Shilo shrugged, face expressionless. "I didn't. It was his own choice."

Amber snorted.

"It cannot-a be legal!" Pavi insisted, gesticulating grandly, nearly swiping Luigi upside the head with his mirror.

"Oh, I assure you, it's completely legal and _completely _binding," Shilo said, waving dismissively toward the papers in front of her. Amber made a grab for them but stopped when she heard the tell-tale _click_ of a gun being cocked. She gulped and slowly backed up a pace.

A smile spread across Shilo's face.

"What-a does it all mean-a?" Pavi fretted.

"Quite simply, it means that_ I_ own GeneCo."

Pavi frowned, twisting his mirror nervously in his hands. "And we?"

"Own nothing," Shilo replied easily. "Nothing at all."

Amber scowled. "You must have tricked him!"

"On the contrary," Shilo said, picking up a thick envelope from the mess of documents. "It was Rotti who tricked _me_." She leveled a hard gaze at the former heiress. "This contains a letter, a very _detailed _letter written in your father's own hand, and witnessed by two others, in which he confesses to my mother's murder."

The siblings' eyes widened in shock. Shilo's lip curled in disgust. "I don't think your father expected to die _quite_ so soon."

"What does that matter?" Amber spat, glaring daggers at the younger girl. "What do you want?"

Shilo chuckled darkly. "I think you'll care more about what I _don't_ want." She gestured at the chairs Luigi had pushed aside when he'd rushed her. "Please, sit."

The Largo siblings exchanged uncertain glances. But, really, what choice did they have? They sat and the Henchwomen holstered their weapons.

Shilo smiled again, lips twisted in bitterness as she regarded them. Not one hour ago, they'd watched (along with hundreds of others) both of their fathers die on the same stage. A scant three days ago, Shilo had been sheltered from the world, a world ruled by GeneCo. And now, here she sat in Rotti Largo's opulent office, the fate of his three children, his legacy, held in the palm of her hand.

If she'd had a heart left, if it hadn't just been shattered to pieces, she might have cared. But, as it was...

"I don't want GeneCo," she blurted, suddenly beyond exhausted.

Silenced reigned for a few brief moments before each Largo broke into loud, excited exclamations.

"Well, _of course_ you don't! _Why would _you?!"

"We'll take care of this immediately! Don't worry your pretty little head about it!"

"I'll-a get the-a lawyers!"

"Enough!" Shilo shouted. Her eyes, once so innocent, swept over them in contempt. "I'm not stupid! I'm not just going to _hand_ over GeneCo!"

"But you just—"

"Every deal comes with conditions!" she snapped. "And I've got some conditions in mind, rest assured!" She glared around at them, her ire rivaling Luigi's. After a moment more, she crooked her finger toward a far corner, signaling someone to come forward. "Now," she said as a rather stooped old man scurried over to her, several sheaves of paper clutched to his chest. "I've already had Rotti's lawyer write up a preliminary contract. My terms include the following..." she trailed off as the old man handed her the papers, her eyes scanning quickly over each page.

The old man began to fidget nervously under the Largo's combined glare and he prayed that they would forget his face.

Finally, Shilo nodded in satisfaction and shuffled the papers back into order. "My terms include the safe return of my mother, Marni Wallace's body, which was stolen earlier by Rotti Largo. I also demand the safe return of my father, Nathan Wallace's body from the Largo Theatre where he was earlier murdered by Rotti Largo." Shilo glanced up perfunctorily as she recited her demands. They stared back at her, faces sullen. "In addition, I also demand the safe delivery of Blind Mag's body from the Largo Theatre where she was earlier killed. Most likely by Rotti Largo."

Luigi jumped up, indignant. "Whore!" Both Henchwomen drew their guns immediately, but he did not approach.

"Blind Mag is the property of GeneCo!" Amber trilled smugly. "You can't have her!"

Shilo laughed aloud; the sound was hollow, horribly mirthless, and seemed to fill the expansive room in eerie abandon. "Ah, but you forget, _Miss Sweet,_ that GeneCo is _mine_!" She tapped the papers with her index, shooting the older woman a mocking smile. "These are the terms you must agree to if you ever want this company back under Largo-family rule. Understand?"

Amber sat back, crossing her arms petulantly. "Understand?" Shilo pressed her, voice sickly sweet.

"Yessss!" Amber hissed, sparks practically shooting from her eyes.

_If looks could kill..._ Shilo mused. She smirked. "Moving on... A formal retraction of Rotti Largo's public accusation of Nathan Wallace's alleged murder of Marni Wallace shall be issued by the Largo siblings no more than twenty-four hours after the signing of the revised contract over control of GeneCo." Shilo paused, awaiting another barrage of protests but the Largos were silent. For once. "Furthermore, the act of repossessing organs by way of _murder _is hereby prohibited and the group known as Repomen is hereby _disbanded—_"

"How-a are we-a supposed to-a... survive?" Pavi interrupted. "We cannot-a afford rogue transplantees-a!"

Shilo lowered her papers. "There are other ways... Why not _detain_ the people who default on their payments? Have them work off their debt to GeneCo by working _for_ GeneCo?" She watched as the Largos exchanged confused and somewhat startled glances. Obviously they had never considered what Shilo was proposing. She pressed on. "That way, GeneCo has a better public image while running off of cheap labor, see?"

Luigi sat back in his chair, frowning. "I wonder why Dad never thought of that..."

Shilo looked at him. "Because your father was a cruel, ruthless man." She pointed at the envelope containing his confession. "He says so himself." Again, the Largo children remained silent. Shilo cleared her throat and continued. "Furthermore, the act of shooting grave-robbers 'on sight' is hereby prohibited—" Shilo was cut off by Amber's derisive snort. She looked up.

"Interesting turn we've taken, from repossession to _thievery!_" Amber shook her head, tutting. "We haven't developed a soft-spot for a certain Z-dealer, have we, little girl?"

Shilo gritted her teeth, her jaw muscles almost seizing up in anger. "_Murder is murder_."

"_Trespassers are trespassers_!" Amber shot back.

"The concept of 'shoot first, question later' is ridiculous!" the teen near-shrieked, pallid cheeks flushing with passion. "Innocent people get caught in the crossfire! It isn't _right_!"

"_Pattuito!_" Pavi suddenly chimed in. "GeneCops will-a no longer shoot-a first-a!"

Shilo and Amber continued to glare at each other, the teen's breath coming in short, angry gasps. After a tense moment, open animosity crackling between the two women, Amber sat back, smirking in satisfaction. She shrugged delicately, smirk still in place. "Fine. _Pattuito._ Luigi?"

"_Pattuito._"

"_Alright_," Shilo ground out. She dropped her eyes back to her papers. "To recap: Luigi Largo, Pavi Largo and Amber Sweet must cease organ repossessions by way of murder immediately, effectively disbanding the Repomen." Over the papers, she saw the siblings begin to tick off the terms on their fingers. "In addition, grave-robbers are to no longer be shot 'on sight.' In addition, the bodies of Marni Wallace, Blind Mag, and Nathan Wallace are to be _safely_ returned to one, Shilo Wallace. In addition, a formal retraction of Rotti Largo's accusation of murder by one, Nathan Wallace, of one, Marni Wallace, shall take place no more than twenty-four hours after the signing of this revised contract. In addition—"

"_What in addition?_" they all demanded.

Shilo ignored them and continued calmly. "—no employee of GeneCo shall be harmed by Luigi Largo, Pavi Largo or Amber Sweet after the signing of this completely legal, _completely_ _binding_ contract. If any _one_ of the aforementioned persons retracts on _any_ of the aforementioned terms the _entire_ contract shall become_ null and void, _placing GeneCo and _all_ of it's assets once again under one, Shilo Wallace's power. As it stands, Shilo Wallace shall retain 'power of attorney' over any and all of GeneCo's assets.

"Which basically means that I'll be keeping my eye on you, seeing as Largos... and _Sweets_... aren't to be trusted." She looked up at them. "_Pattuito?_" she asked genially, holding a pen out towards Amber.

The Largo siblings exchanged uncertain glances. But, _really_...what choice did they have?

Amber took the pen.

* * *

_Pattuito!_ = _Agreed!_ (in Italian)


	2. Chapter 1: Meanwhile

_Change the World_

Chapter 1: Meanwhile...

By: Farren O'Blivion

**BLOOD OPERA FEUD!**

_**Was the whole thing over a woman?**_

GraveRobber snorted as he read that evening's headline. _A blood saga of old grudges and scorned lovers... How did we ever get here? _His eyes scanned the nearby crowd swarmed around a drum-fire. _Sometimes I wonder why we don't all move on! _He focused on a slumped figure by a dumpster, his mouth twisting into a caustic smile. The person, androgynous in gender, was obviously dead.

_We all end up in a tiny pine box... or a mass grave... _He shook out his paper and began humming to himself. _It's a mighty small drop in a mighty dark plot. And the mighty fine print hastens the trip to our epilogue!_

He quickly read the rest of the article and turned the page.

**LARGO LEGACY UP FOR GRABS!**

_**Wallace defies Rotti's Will!**_

GraveRobber's eyes widened briefly before he burst out laughing. A couple of Z-heads nervously looked up from the fire. It was never good when _The Grave Robber_ laughed; his laughter was _dangerous_. They glanced over their shoulders, peering into the darkness of the alley, anxious for whatever threat was coming at them to make itself known.

GraveRobber didn't notice, his gaze being riveted to the snapshot of Shilo in the paper. It must have been taken at the opera; she was a mess! Pale arms, shoulders, neck and face smeared with blood; bits of fake snow tangled in her hair, sticking in the blood. She was standing in a doorway, large eyes looking back toward... the stage, maybe? Her father's corpse?

GraveRobber's smile faded. _Poor kid... having her entire world torn, crumpled and thrown back at her in the space of a night. I wonder if she— _Abruptly he cut himself off, shaking his head to clear it. Such thoughts wouldn't do. The kid would be fine; after all, _she_ wasn't living on the streets, _she _didn't need to scrounge for her next meal. She had a house, with a kitchen! She'd be fine, just fine...

He tore his gaze from her printed face and went back to the article.

_So, the little girl fled and the king is dead. And the castle is left for the taking... _He chuckled darkly, amused at the thought of Amber, Luigi and Pavi fighting for control of GeneCo. Talk about a blood-saga! _But still, _GraveRobber mused. _GeneCo may survive if it undergoes surgery. _His lips quirked up as he resumed his earlier humming, his booted foot tapping out a little ditty on a nearby garbage can. _Surgery...surgery... Surgery!_

* * *

GraveRobber practically skipped through the cemetery, shrouded by early morning mist. Whistling a jaunty tune, his holster of Zydrate vials heavy with a fresh harvest, he jumped up as he passed under a tree and tagged a branch. He landed silently, despite his heavy boots, and smirked to himself. _What's that they say about the fog coming on little cat feet?_

A truck rumbled by on the street, it's squealing brakes effectively shattering the night's quiet. Doors opened and slammed. GraveRobber immediately hunkered down behind a decrepit headstone, cursing to himself. _GeneCops!_

"Miss!" a man called. "Miss!"

Grave Robber frowned in confusion. _Miss? I didn't hear any gunfire... _He peered around his granite shield in vain; the fog was dense.

"We've brought them, Miss! And I've got a message for you!"

The thief began to creep from his hiding place, noiselessly slipping behind another headstone closer to the voices, curious now despite himself.

"I'm here!" The feminine voice was low, almost too quiet for GraveRobber to catch, but he recognized it instantly.

_Kid... Shilo.  
_

He quickly moved to another spot, closer, silent as a shadow. The fog was cut thin by several blazing torches and he was able to make out a handful of milling figures.

_They **are** GeneCops! _GraveRobber could see their armored uniforms, face-masks glinting in the light.

"The graves have already been prepared," Shilo informed the men, emerging from an old crypt directly across from the hidden GraveRobber. She was holding a long-stemmed rose in a tight fist. "Please... just be careful with them." Her voice was so soft, an exhausted lilt to it.

The nearest GeneCop handed her a small card. "Yes, Miss. Would you like us to meet you back—"

Shilo shook her head at him, her eyes scanning the card. "No. No, I'll wait here... until you're done." She handed the card back to him. "I'll allow it. But they _must_ follow through."

_Who must follow through? _GraveRobber wondered._ And with what?_

The GeneCop merely nodded. "Yes, of course, Miss." He motioned his fellows forward. They came, four of them, bearing the weight of an elaborately carved wooden casket on their shoulders.

Shilo watched them pass, face impassive. The GeneCops maneuvered through the door of the crypt and set to work. "Wait!" the girl called suddenly, rushing after them. "Open it."

"Miss?" the lead GeneCop questioned.

"Open it," Shilo repeated evenly. "All of them. I need to _see _them."

"Ar—are you _sure_, Miss?"

The teen turned to face the man and nodded once, decisively. GraveRobber sucked in a surprised breath at the girl's fiercely determined expression; her face seemed... _harder_, leaner; as though the clinging softness of her youth had simply melted away. There was a new, rather defiant set to her chin. She seemed almost austere. She was no longer the doe-eyed innocent he'd dragged through the underbelly of the city, that much was obvious. 

_Well, Daddy's not around to protect her anymore, _GraveRobber reminded himself. _She's all by her lonesome, now._

At their leader's signal, the four GeneCops inside the crypt pried open the casket lid and stepped aside for Shilo. The girl gazed down on the body inside. "My mother," she said, and pointed at an open grave. "There." The GeneCops obliged.

Shilo turned back to the leader. "I'll see the others, now."

He led her over to their truck where two other coffins awaited burial. "Blind Mag," he cautioned her, gesturing. She nodded and he opened it. GraveRobber couldn't see from where he was crouching, but he imagined Mag was more at peace in death than she'd ever been in life. Shilo did not seem too horrified at Blind Mag's appearance, at any rate. After a few moments, she nodded for the leader to close the lid. The other four GeneCops arrived to take her away.

"The right one, please," Shilo said as they lifted the casket up on their shoulders.

"Yes, Miss," they murmured in assent as they passed.

"Could... could you give me a moment... _alone_, please?" Shilo asked the leader, her small hand on his arm, head inclined toward the final casket. He silently followed after his men.

GraveRobber watched as the girl, suddenly so slight in her dark clothing, hefted the lid to Nathan Wallace's coffin. He expected tears and whispered words of farewell, broken and choked in agony. He did not expect silence...

As Shilo gazed upon her father's face, her silence seemed to grow, to envelope the rest of the world, for suddenly, GraveRobber could hear nothing but his own breathing, so _loud, _heavy. Rushing, tumbling over his parted lips in gasps. Her silence was suffocating!

Shilo sighed. She placed the rose she'd been holding atop her father's chest, brushed a lock of hair from his brow, back into place. She closed him in and turned away.

"I'm finished!" she called. "You can take him now."

The GeneCops quickly acquiesced as their leader approached Shilo. "The others?"

"In his... _repo-room._"

"Amazing how many he took with..." he trailed off under Shilo's fierce glare. He cleared his throat and straightened his back."We'll clean up as soon as we're done here."

"I want it sealed off, that _room._" The girl's hands curled into fists at her sides. GraveRobber could just make out a slight tremor in her limbs, stark against her aphotic clothing.

"Yes, Miss."

"And stop calling me '_Miss_'!" she burst out, voice echoing her shuddering body. "I have a _name_!"

The other GeneCops poked their heads out the tomb door at her shout. GraveRobber pressed a hand against his mouth, clenched his teeth over his laughter, swallowed it. Their confusion with the teen was palpable even at this distance. _Shilo Wallace... expect the unexpected._

GraveRobber calmed himself and settled more comfortably behind the headstone, stretching his legs out. His fingers tapped lightly in the dirt as he hummed quietly to himself, a song he'd been taught as a child. The sound of the GeneCops at work in the tomb only added to his song.

_T'was brillig, and the slithy toves_

_Did gyre and gimble in the wabe!  
_

_

* * *

_

**A/N: **Wow... this is bad. It was supposed to be up yesterday, but I was edit-happy. Didn't do any good though. :(


	3. Chapter 2: The Plot Thickens

_Change the World_

Chapter 2: The Plot Thickens

By: Farren O'Blivion

She'd sent them on to collect whatever mess Nathan had left of their fellows, opting to stay behind in the tomb. GraveRobber wondered at her nonchalance toward the GeneCops; the apparent ease with which she ordered them about, where had that come from? More importantly, why did they obey? GraveRobber resolved to find out.

As soon as the GeneCops had gone, he slipped from his hiding place and silently approached the Wallace mausoleum. He peered through the bars in the door, eyes naturally accustomed to gloom, half-expecting to see her curled in a corner, bug-book in hand. But, as far as he could tell, the tomb was empty.

He jiggled the handle. Locked. Deftly, he slid a thin bar with an 'S' shaped twist on the end into the lock. There was a light _skrit-kik_ sound and suddenly GraveRobber was able to pull the door open. He chuckled as he tucked the 'snake' back into his pocket. He grabbed a leftover torch and did an odd little high-stepping jig into the tomb, pulling the heavy door closed behind him. He paused, bracing himself for a small-fisted attack but...

The tomb _was _empty.

GraveRobber glanced around, torch aloft, peering into corners. Nope, the place was completely empty. Well... not _completely._ His eyes scanned over the fresh graves, pausing on Blind Mag's. Unconsciously, his fingers strayed into his leather satchel, toyed with the extracting needles there as he thought of those lovely rob-optical orbs Mag had had. Surgery equaled Zydrate which, for GraveRobber, equaled _profit_...

GraveRobber shook himself out of his musings, pulling his hand away from temptation. Scalpel-sluts were addicted to the Z but _he_ was addicted to the harvest. He glanced around again, knowing the kid had to be there _somewhere; _she had stayed behind, he _knew_ she had! Quickly, he made a circuit of the room, running his hands along the stone walls, barely feeling the grit and grain through his calloused fingers. At the back wall, he paused, pulled his hand away from... _a draft_? Frowning, he fingered a narrow crevice in the stone, bringing the torch closer for a better look. It gave a scanty flicker, uncooperative. He stuck it into a nearby sconce. Suddenly, he dug his nails into the crevice and pulled!

The hidden door slid open, exposing a roughly carved stone tunnel, lit by several torches. Crouching, GraveRobber examined the dirt floor. He could just make out a set of bootprints, leading to and from the secret door; up ahead a little ways, the dirt leveled out, as though something had been dragged there. He grinned.

_Ready or not, kid, here I come._

_

* * *

_

Shilo knelt behind the cellar door, her ear pressed to the keyhole. The house was silent so she was fairly certain she'd made it there before the GeneCops. Cautiously, she cracked the cellar door about three inches or so then sat with her back against the jamb, waiting. The front door soon opened and she heard several pairs of boots tromping across the foyer; they knew _exactly_ where to go.

Shilo had discovered the room as soon as she'd arrived back from GeneCo, her father having neglected to 'shut the fireplace' in his haste to reach her. There had been three dead GeneCops scattered about in his hidden lair and later, when she'd gone to visit her mother (having momentarily forgotten that her corpse had been stolen just hours previously) she had discovered the bodies of two more GeneCops in the tunnel leading to the _then_ empty Wallace tomb.

She'd dragged the bodies back to her father's lair, thoroughly dusted their uniforms, and called Amber.

And now she waited in secret silence for the GeneCops to collect their dead, practically holding her breath in anticipation. If they'd known about her father's hidden lair, about the tunnel to her mother's grave... what _else _did they know? She strained to hear over their clomping boots but still only managed to catch snippets of their chatter as they disappeared in and out of the repo-room, in and out the front door, dragging their fallen comrades in a far less respectful fashion than they'd displayed for the three now buried in the Wallace tomb.

"...five, _five_... against _one_."

"Nathan Wallace was the..."

"...same place, too..."

"_Haha_! What a sweet deal..."

"..didn't you _know_?"

"Got 'em all?" That was the leader, Shilo recognized his voice. "Smith, Johnson, finish up."

"Seems a waste," someone muttered. "Leaving all that equipment."

"She wants it sealed off, we seal it off," the leader said.

"Well, why can't we just—"

"We can't risk it!" he snapped. "You heard that madman over the com-link, raving in the background! This girl has the Largos under her thumb." Shilo smothered a snicker. "We do something to bring _her _down on _them_, _they _come down on _us! _Now get your grubby mitts offa that and seal the fucking passage!"

Someone else snorted. "Well, if we were just gonna seal it off anyway, why couldn't we just leave 'em there?"

"Go wait in the truck, Williams." Shilo heard the front door open and slam. "What a fucking moron..." the leader grumbled. "Well? What the hell are you waiting for! Get to it!"

There were a couple of muffled chortles, then the sound of metal scraping across stone. The sudden _whirr_ of a power-tool caused her to jump, her shoulder knocking into the door which began to swing open on (blessedly) silent hinges...

Until a red fuzzy arm reached past her, moon-white fingers stretching out to catch the underside of the door, halting it, pulling it back to it's former position.

Shilo looked up into the eyes of GraveRobber, mere inches from her own. Even through the gloom, she could tell he was smirking at her, those darkly painted lips twisted up at the corners, as crooked as the man himself.

"I wondered if I'd ever see you again, grave-robber," she whispered, a small sheepish smile flitting across her own lips. She looked over his shoulder at the entrance to the tunnel, scowling. "Is _nothing_ sacred?"

GraveRobber sat back on his heels, the shadows swallowing his shoulders, melding with his hair. He cocked his head to the side, frowning. "You high, kid?"

Shilo snorted softly. "Not as far as I know."

GraveRobber's frown deepened. "You don't seem surprised to see me..." he trailed off, sounding almost dejected.

The girl actually giggled at that, pressing a hand to her mouth to stifle it. Another loud _whirr_ sounded in the foyer followed by a muttered oath. Shilo sobered. "Not much surprises me these days, grave-robber."

"Hmm," the man murmured, voice velvet smooth, shadowed eyes running her up, down, over and across. "I bet."

She didn't notice his scrutiny; she was distracted by the GeneCop's sudden chatter.

"That'll hold," one of them said.

"Yeah, if she never _wanted_ to get in," another pointed out.

"She _doesn't_. That's why it's sealed," the first drawled.

"Williams was right about the equipment, though..."

"Shut up, Johnson," their leader barked.

"Yes, sir."

"Pack up and move out. We're done here."

"Yes, sir!"

A moment later, the front door opened and closed with a quiet _click_ and the house was once again silent. She turned back to the grave-robber, only to find him inches from her own face. Again. As she pushed the cellar door open, allowing the light from the foyer to wash over them, she saw his smile widen. His teeth were impossibly white for a street vagrant.

"Skulking in your own house, kid?" he rumbled, his breath warm against her cheeks.

"I wasn't _skulking_," she bristled. "I was spying. But... they didn't say anything useful. Not really."

_Useful to **you**, no, _GraveRobber thought to himself. _Useful to **me**, however, oh **yes**..._

He chuckled and the sound seemed to vibrate down his arms, through the floorboards, and into Shilo's tiny body. She cleared her throat.

"So you found the passageway?" she asked, motioning behind him.

He half-shrugged. "Wasn't too difficult."

"Hmm," she mused, lips pressed into a line. "Apparently _not. _I'll have to fix that. You know," she looked at him, straight in the eye. "You could've just used the front door."

The man almost growled, more from her continued lack of response than her actual suggestion. But, never one to miss an opportunity, he merely grinned cheekily and said, "Nah. I'm more a _back-door _kind of guy!"

Shilo, having been sheltered her entire life, failed to catch the innuendo; it flew right over her head and landed somewhere near the aforementioned _front_ door. "Well, if that's what you prefer," she replied, returning his half-shrug.

GraveRobber realized his mistake instantly but soothed himself by being privately amused at her expense, vowing to have as much fun with her innocence as he could. He stood and, ever the gentleman, offered her a hand up with, ever the showman, an unnecessary flourish. She smiled up at him and took his hand.

"Would you like to stay for dinner?"

GraveRobber arched a dark brow at the girl, her small alabaster hand still ensconced in his, long white fingers curling round her diminutive wrist. He raised it to his lips, never breaking eye contact. "What are we having?"

Shilo tugged her hand away and GraveRobber trilled on the inside; so he _did_ have an effect! "What would you like?"

The man grinned lecherously. _Oh, she's making this __**too **__easy! _He took a step nearer, his arm coming up to brace himself against the wall as he leaned into her, pressing her back into the door-jamb without physically touching her.

"What are you _offering_?"

She crossed her arms over her chest, her elbows jutting into his own chest, as she narrowed her eyes at him. "I may be naive, grave-robber," she seethed at him, nostrils flared and jaw tight. "But I'm _not_ _**stupid**_**!**"

Her ire only rose when GraveRobber tipped his head back and laughed.

_

* * *

_**A/N: **Okay, this chapter didn't go _quite_ like I had planned, but, well... I hope you like it. Anyway, I've pretty much got the rest of the story mapped out but it may take awhile to get written/posted because of pressing personal matters. *yark* I probably won't even be able to get started as soon as I'd like because I'm off to visit family this weekend. *double yark* But I figured I'd at least get _this_ chapter up and running before I was forced to abandon you. So... it's a bit rushed in parts but I did my best. I think.


	4. Chapter 3: Offerings

_Change the World_

Chapter 3: Offerings

By: Farren O'Blivion

He'd followed her to the kitchen, his mirthful laughter echoing along after them. Shilo sniffed indignantly at him and climbed atop a counter.

"Now," she said, pulling open a cupboard and peering inside. "I can _offer_ you... vegetable soup and stale crackers." She slanted a glance at him over her shoulder. "That okay?"

GraveRobber merely smiled at her, his form filling the doorway, seemingly stretching it. Odd how the spacious Gothic house shrank in his presence.

Shilo blinked. She grabbed the soup and crackers and quickly hopped down, stooping to pull out a small cooking pot. She could feel him watching her as she prepared their meal, his eyes burning into her back, but when she risked a peek at him she saw he'd turned away to examine a drawer full of kitchen utensils. "Since you're rummaging through my drawers anyway, would you mind handing me a spoon?" she asked sweetly.

GraveRobber smirked, completely unabashed at being caught snooping. "You don't like having your _drawers rummaged through_, kid? Is it me?" he teased, stressing the words just slightly as he tossed her a wooden spoon.

Shilo frowned, confused but fairly sure her strange dinner guest was poking fun at her. She huffed, frustrated with her own naiveté before the entendre suddenly bloomed in her mind.

_Oh. __**Oh!**_ _Why, that dirty...! _Inwardly, she fumed. _Hmm, __**two**__ can play at __**this**__ game!_

"No. In fact," she managed to drawl as she turned back to the soup. "I rather _like _having my drawers rummaged through." Her tone was coy, sickly sweet. "Feel free to do so anytime, grave-robb—uhh!"

The spoon fell from her loose-fingered grip as rough hands grabbed her shoulders, spinning her around to face a very predatory GraveRobber. Her eyes widened in surprise; he moved so silently!

"Naive but not stupid, eh, kid?" he demanded, shaking her slightly as he spoke. "Just _what _are you _offering_, now? Do you even _know_?" His hands moved from her shoulders to just above her elbows, fingers biting through the fabric of her shirt sleeves as he pulled her flush against him, practically lifting her off her feet. "_Do_ you, little girl?"

"I-I was just—" Shilo faltered, straining against his hold, rearing back, uncomfortably aware of his closeness. "It was just a _joke_."

GraveRobber snorted. "_Just a joke_, she says. _Just a joke._" He shook her again. "There are no jokes in this city, this world, kid!"

"Bu-but _you _say things—"

"That's different!" GraveRobber snapped, his grip tightening, impossibly-white teeth grinding. "You're just a little girl! You can't say shit like that to a man!"

Shilo's eyes started to tear. "Grave-robber," she gasped. "You're hurting me!"

GraveRobber's face darkened. "Am I?" he asked, rhetorical, his hands unrelenting. "Are you frightened?"

"Nuh-no," the girl stuttered, pushing uselessly against his chest, arms and fingers tingling from loss of circulation. She could feel bruises forming on her skin, deep purple prints, identical to the pads of his fingers. "Let me go, grave-robber!"

The man spun on his heel, twirling Shilo around with him, and pressed her down bodily upon the table. He snatched her wrists, pinning them by either side of her head. "Are you frightened _now_?"

His face was inches from hers, breath warm on her already flushed cheeks. She stared up at him, large dark eyes almost swallowing her face. But her jaw was set, firm, uncompromising.

"No," she stated, voice clipped, calm, verging on defiant. "I am not frightened, grave-robber."

He growled, a vicious snarl of displeasure, and glowered down at her. He forced himself between her legs, hips between her knees. "You _should _be!" he hissed.

"Why?" She seemed genuinely confused. She looked him in the eye, unflinching. "You won't _do_ anything, I _know _you won't." Her tone was very matter-of-fact.

For a moment, he was taken aback by her utter confidence in him, in his 'better-nature.' "I _could_, though," he said, rather stupidly, his voice having lost its guttural quality. "If I wanted to."

She regarded him, dark eyes roving his face. "No," she concluded decisively. "You're above that."

"Don't be so sure, kid," he grumped, finally releasing her and straightening, stepping back. "You don't even know me."

Shilo sat up on the table, watching as he stooped to pick up the spoon, rinsed it in the sink and stirred the abandoned soup. "You're right. I don't," she conceded, thinking back to their first meeting, a mere four days ago. She crossed her ankles and began swinging her legs to and fro. "What's your name, anyway, grave-robber?"

The man stilled mid-stir. Slowly, he turned his head to look at her over his shoulder, one brown brow arched sardonically. "My name is GraveRobber, kid."

"...Are you joking?"

"No."

"But... but there are _hundreds _of grave-robbers!" the girl exclaimed.

He snorted. "Hardly. There are only a dozen grave-robbers, if that," he informed her, flicking the dial on the stove to 'Off.' "Bowls?"

Shilo hopped down and padded over to a cabinet. "Only a dozen? I thought there'd be more..." She pulled out two bowls and placed them on the table then retrieved a couple of spoons from a nearby drawer. "I mean, with all the surgeries going on and the bodies just laying around." She gestured grandly with the spoons. "Everyone wants, or 'needs,' Zydrate, Zydrate, Zydrate!"

"Yeah, but grave-robbers are a dime-a-dozen; no pun intended," he said, ladling soup into each bowl. "Most don't last too long." He pulled a chair out for her. "Ladies first."

"Can't handle the 'harvest'?" Shilo asked, sitting. "Thanks."

"In a manner of speaking; they get picked off by GeneCops. Or other grave-robbers," he shrugged, settling himself across from her. "You're welcome."

Shilo surveyed him, a spoonful of soup halfway to her mouth. "How long have _you _been a grave-robber, erm... GraveRobber?" she asked curiously.

"Me?" He paused and ticked off on his fingers. "Oh, about fourteen or fifteen years." He grinned cheekily at her open-mouthed shock. "I'm _The _Grave Robber, kid. I'm _royalty _on the streets_, _a fucking legend."

Shilo quickly regained her composure, swallowing her suspended spoonful of soup and refocusing on her supper. "Well," she murmured a moment later, her tone light as she glanced up at him from across the table. "I'm honored to be dining with you this night, Your Majesty."

GraveRobber's grin merely widened. "As you should be, Lady Wallace. Pass the crackers."

* * *

**A/N: **Okay, this chapter did not go like I'd planned. GraveRobber just started doing his own thing and I followed. Troublesome bastard. Anyway, I'm not too impressed with this. I dunno. The title blows, that's for sure. Tell me what **you** think; crticism is appreciated. Oh, and the upcoming chapters might be a smidge shorter than usual so's the updates won't be so far apart. My friend, After Words, has already bitched at me that I'm 'starting to bounce.' (Eff you, AW :P). So... yeah. I hope you enjoyed this.


	5. Chapter 4: Unsatisfied

_Change the World_

Chapter 4: Unsatisfied

By: Farren O'Blivion

She wondered when, or if, she'd ever see him again.

He'd sauntered away immediately after supper, throwing a careless, "see ya, kid" over his shoulder as he disappeared down the tunnel. Shilo resolved to spend the rest of the day 'cleaning house.' Her stuffed animals and other such frivolities had been boxed and stacked neatly by her bedroom door, waiting to be carted downstairs. She'd given up on her room after that, nostalgia ripping through her with a jagged edge.

It was just past nine o'clock in the morning but she suddenly felt drained and wondered vaguely if she'd feel less heavy if she removed her boots. _No... I'll just take a quick nap. I'll be up in time._

She programed a cautionary alarm into her com-link, settled back on an antique Duncan Phyfe chaise and quickly fell into the realms of unconsciousness. Surprisingly, she slept through till the alarm sounded at a quarter to eight that evening. She drug herself up from the sofa and trudged up the stairs to her bedroom.

Amber and her brothers would be making their 'official GeneCo.' statement tonight and Shilo didn't want to miss it.

* * *

Elsewhere, GraveRobber was just waking amid piles of fetid leftovers. _Ah, _he thought, breathing deeply. _Lǐ Wáng's_ _toss-out; my favorite._

He kicked open the flat, metal lid of the dumpster (vaguely surprised when his foot didn't crash through one of the various rust-spots) and pulled himself over the rim. He shook himself to dislodge the rotting vegetables and rancid meat chunks from his person and picked stray noodles from his hair. Those he ate. _Mmm, chow mein._

He began to stroll leisurely down the alley, completely at ease, occasionally popping a wayward noodle or mushroom into his mouth. He made it to the end of the alleyway and paused. _Uptown or Downtown tonight? _He glanced up at the giant GeneCo.-screen that floated above the city and grimaced as Amber Sweet, complete with a brand-new face, and the Largos appeared. _I'm aching for the day I get to take my Zydrate back from __**you**__, Amber. _He slurped up yet another noodle and waited for the show to begin.

GraveRobber rolled his eyes after Amber's spiel. Luigi was screaming for more cheers. _A face-auction. In honor of Blind Mag, I'm sure. _He shook his head and turned toward Uptown when Amber's voice stopped him short.

"My brothers and I would like to make a statement regarding the last opera we held." GraveRobber's ears perked up. "We have since discovered that the charges our father, the great Rotti Largo, voiced against Nathan Wallace were, in fact, untrue." The screen showed a close-up of the convincingly repentant Largo siblings. The crowd off-screen cooed sympathetically. "Nathan Wallace had nothing to do with Marni Wallace's death. We're sure our father meant no harm toward Miss Shilo Wallace when he accused her father of murder. On his behalf, my brothers and I would like to formally apologize to Miss Shilo and extend our... _sincerest_ condolences."

GraveRobber's stomach roiled as Amber wiped a non-existent tear from her cheek. He didn't think it had anything to do with Lǐ Wáng's chow mein.

* * *

Shilo continued her cleaning spree in the kitchen after the Largo's press-conference. An odd obsessiveness had possessed her and she felt the need to scrub every nook and cranny. She attacked the drawers, the cabinets and cupboards, the stove, sink, counters and even the grout with a tireless vigor.

She wiped sweat from her brow before carelessly pulling off her wig. She took a look around with a satisfied sigh. The kitchen sparkled. It was midnight by that time, nearing one o'clock. Shilo made herself a light snack.

She took care of the hallway and parlor in quick succession, opening windows as she went. She drug several rugs out the door, draped them over the balustrade and beat the dust from them. She stilled suddenly, sensing that she wasn't alone anymore; someone or something was watching her.

She turned and peered down the walkway toward the street. A gust of wind swept through the gutters, sending dead leaves and collected trash over the sidewalks. A waterlogged newspaper caught on the iron fence, it's sodden pages sticking.

There was a flash of movement across the street. Shilo tightened her hold on the fire-poker she'd been using on the rugs, the fact that it was very late at night and she was all alone suddenly occurring to her.

"Hello?" she called, her voice surprisingly steady given her nervousness. "Is someone there?"

She waited for several minutes, stock-still and silent, but there was no answer. She could hear the creaking of branches and the rustling of leaves. _It's just the wind, _she told herself. _Just the wind. No one is out there. I'm all alone..._

A pair of headlights cut across the street and a stretch limo idled up to the curb. Shilo decided to keep the fire-poker handy as a black-clad chauffeur emerged and stood silently at attention. The back window slid silently down, a slender hand extended and motioned Shilo forward.

After a moment, she moseyed down the front steps and toward the limo, Amber's face framed in the window. She could see Luigi and Pavi bickering beside her. She stopped a short distance away and waited.

Amber smiled at her, the maliciousness evident. "Well, _dear_?" she oozed. "Was our 'formal apology' satisfactory?" Pavi and Luigi paused in their argument and looked over at her.

Shilo gave them a half-shrug. "Not really." She almost laughed at their stricken expressions. "I said within twenty-four hours. You went over by—"

"By a mere hour!" Amber screeched.

"And you agreed to it!" Luigi shouted, shouldering his sister out of the way.

"We-a sent you a message!" Pavi whined, shoving Luigi's head to the side.

Shilo nodded solemnly. "True. But a retraction of what _he_ said doesn't change anything, does it? It doesn't bring my father back." She stared hard at them. "And I'm supposed to be satisfied?"

Amber scowled. "_We _lost our father, too, you know!"

Shilo snorted. "Yeah, and I can tell you're real broken up about it." She shook her head disgustedly. "Get out of here. I'm sick of the sight of you."

Amber's jaw dropped in shock for an instant before she sucked in a breath to retort, but Luigi clapped his hand over her mouth and drug her back. "Driver! Home!" he shouted. The chauffeur obeyed and Pavi simpered at Shilo as he rolled the window back up.

Shilo heard Amber screech almost immediately afterward. She smiled and turned to go back to work.

She didn't see the dark shape drop from the branches of a tree and dart away.

* * *

**A/N: **Okay. This took _way too frickin' long_ to post, I know. But I'm really not satisfied with it. Am I ever? (Heh. Fitting title, no?) Anyway, I was going to put in whatever the hell Amber actually said at the press-conference but, for the life of me, I just can't remember what it was. See, I literally don't own _Repo! _and I'm pulling everything from memory. Unfortunately, I only saw it, uh... _once_. Yeah. Once. :( So bear with me. I'm a bit of a perfectionist and I like to have (most of) my facts straight.

Well, anyway. Tell me what you think. Many thanks to those who have! Much appreciated, people.


	6. Chapter 5: Purpose

_Change the World_

Chapter 5: Purpose

By: Farren O'Blivion

The house seemed to have grown since her father's death. Every room appeared cavernous now, full of sad shadows and echoes of yesteryear. She'd avoided the upstairs for days and instead slept in the parlor, unwilling to do what she knew she must.

But there was nothing left to distract herself with on the ground floor; everything was scrubbed spotless and sparkling clean.

Shilo mounted the stairs resignedly, her eyes fixed on the floor, mentally cataloging further chores. _Stairs need to be swept, maybe polished. Hmm, that one will have to be repaired._ She paused outside her bedroom and gloomily toed a box of bric-a-brac she'd previously packed. _My childhood is divvied into theses boxes,_ she mused, oddly detached. _Are they worth keeping?_

She shook her head to clear it and continued down the hallway. Stopping in front of a door, she'd raised her hand to knock before realizing how _stupid_ that was. He'd been dead for a week, now, so it was rather unlikely he'd answer her.

Shilo smirked. _Dead men tell no tales._ Her face fell and she pressed her forehead to the door, squeezing her eyes shut against bitter tears. _And live men don't either, huh, Dad? _She suddenly twisted the knob, shoved the door open.

She stepped into her father's bedroom, automatically running her hand up the wall for the lamp-sconce as she peered around in the gloom. The light flickered on and somewhere in the back of her mind, she noted that a fair amount of dust had accumulated in a week. She strode to the balcony doors, pushing aside the heavy drapes to let in some natural light. _Windows need to be washed, room probably needs to be aired. _She turned, hands on hips, and froze.

The bed was unmade, sheets and spread rumpled, flipped to the side as though he'd just gotten up. The pillows were all dented in, imprinted with the shape of his head. If it weren't for the light layer of dust atop the sheets, Shilo would have thought her father was merely in the throes of his morning routine, perhaps in the shower.

Her eyes shot toward the adjoining bathroom door before she could stop herself. She clapped a hand over her eyes, reeling back, cursing fiercely under her breath. _Stupid, stupid, stupid! _Her hand moved down to cover her mouth, feeling bile rise in her throat. _He's __**dead**__! Dead and gone! _She stumbled toward an overstuffed armchair in the corner, collapsing, curling into herself.

She stayed there awhile, her burning cheeks pressed to the cool leather, soft as butter and sticky with tears.

She hadn't cried when she buried them, barely cried when it happened... They'd said their goodbyes in front of hundreds of witnesses, people who hadn't even bothered to rise from their seats when Blind Mag fell to her death, or when Rotti pulled a gun on Nathan and shot him. Those people, _those people_, hadn't bothered to help at all! Not one of them! But they'd sat there on their backsides and watched as Nathan Wallace died in his daughter's arms, as though it were just some stage-show presented for their entertainment!

Shilo's chest tightened painfully, her breath coming in short, erratic bursts. It _had _been a stage-show. Rotti had planned it all! All but her refusal... She couldn't take a full breath and it felt like her chest cavity was caving in as her heart and lungs were constricting. _I'm going to die, _she suddenly realized. _I'm... suffocating in my own tears._

And, just as suddenly, she started to laugh. It tore at her lungs to do so, made her abdomen feel like the muscles were being ripped away, her intestines clawed out, but she couldn't stop. She just couldn't stop.

* * *

Shilo didn't know how long she remained curled in her father's chair after her crying jag. Maybe hours. Maybe days. It didn't matter. She felt refreshed, cleansed... and filled with purpose.

She sat up, ignoring the stiffness in her joints. Strands of hair stuck to her tear-stained face. Removing her wig, she ran a hand over her scalp, delighting in the feel of new hair-growth, nothing more than superfine down. Now that the _medicine _had worked it's way out of her system, her hair was finally beginning to grow in. Shilo wondered what color it would be naturally. _Hopefully, not blonde_, she thought, frowning. Blonde wouldn't look right on her.

She stood and stretched before casting a look back toward the bed. The rumpled covers didn't fool her this time. She merely sighed, turned away, her grip tightening in the weave of her wig.

_I miss you, Dad, I do, _she whispered, tracing a stray shaft of light upon the the door-pane. _And I wish I didn't have to... I don't know what to do, where to go... I don't know **anything**, Dad. _She smirked. _One of the drawbacks of growing up sheltered from **everything**... _Her humor faded. _I've had a taste of the world, though, so I don't blame you for trying to... protect me from it. _She pushed the balcony doors open and stepped out, lifting her face to a breeze. _I get it. But... I need to be strong now that I'm on my own, but I don't know if I can. So... I've decided to ask someone I **know** you wouldn't approve of, Dad, for some help here on the outside. _She closed her eyes as the sun broke through the clouds, warming her face and bare head. _I'm sorry, but your memory isn't enough for me in my time of need._

A shadow fell across her and she opened her eyes to find the sky returning to its usual overcast gloom. "You asked me to change the world for you, Dad," Shilo breathed. The feeling of purposefulness surged within her again. "And I will, I swear it. For you, Dad... I'll change the world."

* * *

**A/N: **Wow. This didn't really go how I wanted it to. Shilo must already be getting pointers from GraveRobber on how to be difficult. Ech. I hate it, the whole thing. I'll probably come back and rewrite this chapter, but in the meantime: Enjoy.

Oh, and many thanks to those who have reviewed. Feedback is much appreciated. Here: :D ---Have a smiley-face.

* * *


	7. Chapter 6: Ups & Downs

_Change the World_

Chapter 6: Ups & Downs

By: Farren O'Blivion

"GeneCo has stopped repossessing organs."

Shilo smiled at the sound of his rich baritone. "Oh?" she queried, not bothering to turn and greet him properly.

GraveRobber leant against the door-jamb, arms crossed and more than a little miffed at her continued lack of response. He watched as she struggled to remove some sort of plastic curtain surrounding her bed. "Hmm. Yes. They announced it today," he informed her. After a moment, he pressed on: "I suppose there's just no replacing their star RepoMan."

The girl stilled. "No," she said, still refusing to turn to him. "No, there's not."

_That was a low-blow, _he chided himself. _Even for you._

He pushed himself off the jamb and began to prowl her room. Toeing a dismantled heart-monitor aside, he moseyed over to her piano and tapped out a simple tune. _Black white black white black white black. Black white black white black white black. Black white black. Black white black. Black white. Black white. White White White._

He smiled to himself. _Some things you never forget,_ he thought, his smile fading._ No matter how hard you try. _He turned away to explore further but paused as he realized the girl was staring at him.

"Where did you learn how to play?" she asked, frowning slightly.

"Well, I'm what you might call... a _savant. _You see, I know something about everything," he boasted, slowly advancing toward her, grinning lecherously as she slowly backed away, her brow furrowed with uncertainty. Unfortunately, there wasn't far for her to go; she felt fabric against her calves an instant before she fell backwards onto her bed.

"And everything about _some_thing," GraveRobber finished, smirking down at her, one knee already atop the mattress. She tried to scramble away but he caught her ankle and dragged her back. She was forced to prevent her skirt from riding up. "If you get my drift," he purred, moon-white fingers toying with the boot-buckles.

Shilo braced herself on her elbows, her frown deepening as she regarded him. "Ah, kid," GraveRobber murmured, releasing her ankle, his fingers skimming up her thigh. "What happened to all that faith in my better nature?"

"It's still there," she said, voice calm.

His lips twisted. "Is it?" he demanded sourly. "Is it, really?" Suddenly, he was flush against her, pressing her down into the mattress, one hand snaking into her hair. "You shouldn't be so trusting, little girl!"

Shilo blinked up at him and smiled. "You're going to have to try harder than that," she informed him brightly.

He glared at her. "To scare you into believing?"

"No," she giggled. "To hold my head still." And with that, she wrapped her arms around his back and pulled herself up, leaving him grasping her... hair... in a tight fist. He felt her giggle against him, her face nestled in his neck.

GraveRobber blinked in surprise. "Well..." he said, staring down at her matted wig. "_That _was a bit unexpected."

Shilo laughed aloud and the feel of her breath against his neck, his ear, sent tingles down his spine. _Damn ticklish ears! _She settled back down on the bed, grinning cheekily up at him, her fingers absently tugging at a lock of blue hair. "You never guessed it was a wig?"

GraveRobber shook his head. "It suited you too well. Simple. Dark." He paused, hesitating.

"Plain?" she provided helpfully.

"Elegant," he corrected.

Shilo snorted. "You're teasing me," she accused, twirling his hair around her finger.

He grinned, as lecherous as ever, and brought his face down to hers. "I _could _be," he breathed, his painted lips brushing across her cheek, down to her ear. "And, _oh, _the ways I could tease you! If I _wanted _to..." He pulled back, his smile mocking, and stood, holding the wig out to her.

She took it and he turned away to give her a moment to fix it and scan her bookshelves. "GraveRobber?"

He picked up a silver figurine and considered pocketing it. "Yeah, kid?" he said, setting the little statue back in its place.

"What exactly do you want to... _scare _me into believing?"

He frowned at a collection of butterflies, neatly aligned in a glass-topped box. "That the world isn't such a nice place, kid—"

"I already know _that,_" she cut in.

"—And that _I'm_ not such a nice guy," he concluded, running a hand down his face and sighing.

There was silence for a moment. And then she said, very quietly, "I'll never believe that."

He turned to her. She sat on the edge of the bed, her wig a tangled puddle in her lap. She was staring at the floor, her head bent downward. GraveRobber stared at the growth of hair there, the way it was already darkening at the crown, growing out in a whorl. "You should," he stated.

"Well, I don't_._"

"Well, you _should_!" he half-shouted. She was infuriating!

She looked up at him, eyes blazing. "Well, I _don't_!"

"Don't you think I know a little bit more about myself than you do, kid?" he snapped. "You only met me, what? Ten days ago?"

"Twelve."

"And you've seen me... twice?"

"Four times, counting this."

"Four times! Over twelve days! Most people I know, I see _every_ day!"

"You're their _dealer_!"

"Exactly! I'm a fucking _drug_-dealer!" he shouted, throwing his hands up in victory. "So what would _you_ know, huh, little girl?"

She stared at him a moment and then smiled sweetly. "You must be hungry."

"I must—what?" GraveRobber spluttered, thrown off by her sudden change of subject.

She shrugged a delicate shoulder. "Why else would you be here?" she mused, absently picking at a knot in the wig. "Unless..." (she gasped) "You're not checking up on me, are you, Mister?"

Her voice was too sweet to be sincere. GraveRobber scowled as she smiled up at him, her eyes big and brown and doe-like. He wanted to strangle her.

_She shouldn't have such gawd-awful innocent eyes_, he ranted to himself. _Dammit!_

"Got any crackers?" he ground out, his impossibly white teeth clenched tight in fury.

She hopped up off the bed and curtsied, the wig falling from her lap. She neglected to pick it up. "But, of course, Your Majesty!" Her smile turned impish, eyes sparkling. "Animal crackers. Yum!"

"...I _do _like to bite the heads off," he muttered sullenly. But, ever the gentleman, he nevertheless offered her his arm. "If I had a hat, I'd doff it. My Lady? Shall I escort you to the kitchen?"

"Indeed, Good Sir." She accepted graciously, straightening her face over her laughter, and sweeping out the door and down the hall on his arm.

"Tell me, Lady Wallace..." he queried as they descended the stairs. "Have you ever been spanked?"

"Why, no, Sire." Shilo's brow furrowed. "Why do you ask?"

"Hmm..." GraveRobber intoned, quite serious. "I shall most likely have to rectify that."

"You—what?"

"But I do quite like the sound of 'Sire.'"

* * *

**A/N: **SURPRISE! Okay, I have _no freaking idea_ what happened here. Goddamn GraveRobber! Going off on his own again! Ech. I'll probably rewrite part of this chapter, too, later on. But, in the meantime, tell me what you think.

Many thanks to those that commented on the last chapter (*cough*troublesome67*cough*), it is very much appreciated.

Cheers.


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